


June Thirteenth, And What Follows After

by Spark_Doodles



Series: Baby Story Thieves [3]
Category: Story Thieves Series - James Riley
Genre: Angst, Canonical Character Death, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Kid Fic, Mentor/Sidekick, Pre-Canon, Sanderson family angst, orion is a baby!!, thats. not a ship tag right. i hope not
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-20
Updated: 2020-06-20
Packaged: 2021-03-03 23:53:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,524
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24814135
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Spark_Doodles/pseuds/Spark_Doodles
Summary: You all know exactly what this is. Fifteen-year-old self, this one's for you.
Relationships: Orion & his parents, Orion Sanderson & Christian Sanderson, Orion | Kid Twilight & Christian Sanderson | Doc Twilight, uhhhh yeah that works
Series: Baby Story Thieves [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1792159
Comments: 6
Kudos: 4





	June Thirteenth, And What Follows After

There is something behind most somethings. Behind that tree, there is a person. Behind that person, there is a bouquet of roses. Behind every action leading up to that rose-holding person standing there, there was an intention: and everything behind  _ that _ .

You won’t always understand the intention. You won’t always know the hiding something. Occasionally, you won’t even see the first something, no matter how close it leaps, snarling, into your face.

That person holding the bouquet? Perhaps he is to encourage a lover. Perhaps he waits to poison his enemy, allergic to roses. Perhaps I was wrong and he is actually gripping a baseball bat, for whatever reasons I would surely be wrong about. Nonetheless: there is a hiding  _ something. _

Take one last glance over your shoulder, dear, and then prepare for the point.

It is sharp.

Behind that building- no, the tall one there -stands a park, and within it a zoo. Jupiter City Zoo. It is filled with amiable guests and also humans. Our red-headed doctor is among them: Christian Sanderson, astronomer and horrid Scrabble-player by day, masked hero by twilight.

You didn’t come for him, did you? No, but he’s ready.

Fine. The boy is to your left, the dark-haired one bouncing with two hands full of parents. He’s smiling; a beam so wide the clouds are shifting as if to let it through. His eyes are shining the way only a five-year-old's eyes can, behind them hiding memories that are already fading into dreams.

Today is June thirteenth, and it's about to be the worst day of Orion Shen's life.

The family weaves through the summer crowd until they find themselves in front of the giraffe exhibit. Orion clambers onto the fence. His mother pulls him back down.   
"But I can't see!"   
(He can't, not yet.)   
"Orion," his father chides.   
Orion wrinkles his nose. "Please lemme see the giraffes." 

His mom scoops him up and sits him on her hip, which really isn't what he wanted, but he can see now. He leans forward, one hand gripping his mom's shirt, the other stretched out and ready to pet, if the animal draws closer and the need arrives. 

Jupiter City Zoo cares for three giraffes, though only one is outside at the moment.

The funny thing about Earthen giraffes: they look remarkably similar to an endangered alien species. Their name would mean nothing to you, but the endangered animals are everything to the Qwou. They are intelligent companions and trustworthy sidekicks, similar to Earthen horses, except the Qwou people could actually communicate with them. 

Behind each something is another something, and beside each wonder tends to crawl a tragedy. The Qwou's planet was visited by their neighbors, pirates masquerading as friends. They took what they desired and left what they didn't, and with such magnificent coats, the Qwou's best friends couldn't possibly have been ignored.

With hopes as small as a child's hand, the Qwou searched for their remaining companions. They thought they found some.

Behind every something is another something.

"Mommy," Orion is saying now, but he forgets his request when something  _ whirs _ in the sky. He thinks it's a superhero. Any other day and he'd be right. He wiggles, trying to get a better look.   
"Stay still," his mom says, which is something she's always saying. He holds his breath and holds still for nearly 9 seconds before he gasps and starts wiggling again.

Neither parent can see behind the wiggling, nor the ship pushing through the clouds above them.   
"Is there something you need?" She prompts. "Use your words."   
"But I don't wanna use my words, I wanna  _ see." _ _  
_ "There's nothing-" His dad starts, then breaks off as the  _ whirring _ grows louder, and both parents look up and can finally see the Qwou spaceship, floating above them. 

The giraffe glances up, then returns to her meal.   
The Qwou see what looks like a companion, captured and taunted at by the surrounding Earthlings who must have traded with the pirates. Any who traded with  _ pirates _ , they thought, could not be reasoned with. So they readied the cannons and prepared to blast their friends to freedom.

A screeching metallic sound rings from the ship, which snatches up attention from the remaining civilians, including our red-haired astronomer. He runs toward the nearest bathroom.

The Shens scramble backward, Orion clapping his free hand over one ear and smothering the other with his mom's shoulder. Before he can complain, the screeching is interrupted by lightning.

_ Flash. _

His eyes are blurry. Body pulled tight against his mom. People are screaming.

And the fence that surrounded the giraffe exhibit? Ashes, floating in the air. It tastes horrible.

Now the ship turns to the people and starts whirring again.

Orion's parents run, his mom pulling him from her side to her front, knocking his head into her chin. The sirens- the ones to call the superheroes, the ones not already on the scene -start singing. Orion clasps his arms around his mom's neck. 

There is something behind most things.

They reach the zoo entrance, the employees apologizing and urging the people on.

It's not always a good something.

Hands grab Orion. He cries out and yanks away until he hears the voice and opens his eyes to see his dad.

Not always a fair something.

Orion latches onto him. His mom's purse jingles as they run. He tries to listen to that sound and nothing else, but oh, the whirring, screeching, singing, screaming world around him is so loud. There's another flash.

The something that hides? It might not even make sense to anyone except for whoever put it there.

His dad stumbles on the curb. Orion's heart leaps into his lungs, but his dad finds purchase and runs harder. Orion lifts his head to see how close they are to the car. It's only a few feet away. 

But that hiding something is there nonetheless.

Orion turns back, and over his dad's shoulder, he can see the ship rotating.    
"Dad," he whispers.   
He shushes Orion and pulls him closer.

They reach the car. His mom scrambles to unlock it, stabbing the car in her rush. His dad opens the back door and sits Orion in his car seat, stumbling with the buckles.

Oh, isn't it a shame? Some things are so similar, aren't they? 

Orion sucks his stomach in helpfully before looking at the ship again. It's pointing right at them.

The companions didn't ask to look like giraffes. Common cars didn't ask to look like Qwou tanks.

"Dad!"   
His dad doesn't listen. Only finishes snapping buckles together and climbs out of the car, heading for his seat. Orion's mom starts the engine. He can hear the ship screeching.

Really, it's more than a shame.

On the brink of tears, Orion cries,  _ "Mommy, the ship!" _ _  
_ She turns around. She smiles at Orion. "I know, baby. It's going to be okay. We're going home."

It's downright terrible.

His dad slips into the passenger seat. His mom sets the car in reverse. Together his parents share a glance, one last glance, filled with love and smothered fear, ready for the day to be over.

Dear, for what it's worth?

They pull out of the parking spot.

I'm sorry.

It takes only the screeching cannon. A searing flash.

There's always something behind something. It could be anything.

And the car is spent spinning.

In the end, do the intentions matter?

Orion doesn't know what happens next. His ears are ringing and he can feel the buckle digging into his stomach. There's something wet on his forehead. A different kind of wet on his cheek.

Orion Shen is 5 years old. He saw the hidden something.

The car is tilted, one window facing pavement, the other a cloudy sky.

And did it-?

The blast had missed. The Qwou only shot a tire.

Did it matter?

They aren't moving. The parents, I mean. Ages 29 and 30. They had met in class, back in college. Barely ten years ago.

Orion is calling for them. There is so much fear in his hands he can’t unbuckle, which is for the best.

There are many noises in this zoo parking lot. The fight is roaring. Captain Sunshine has finally arrived and is trying to break the cannons off the spaceship. Our hero can't fly, so he is escorting pedestrians out of harm's way. He glances around, standing in a pile of ashes. He thinks everyone is safe.

(Should we tell him?)

He finds out, soon enough.

He recognizes the car, though he wishes he didn't. He can see silhouettes in the windshield, though he wishes he couldn't. Doc Twilight almost up and leaves, to ask someone else to fix it. 

You can't blame him, dear. This grief brings a fear, and it snakes up your spine and wraps around your neck. It pulls and chokes you, and it whispers nasty things in your ear about who will be next, and it hurts  _ so much _ , dear. 

It's a hidden thing.

It almost made him leave.

He pauses to take a shaky breath, gloved hands clenching and boots reluctantly turning back to the car. Doc Twilight is almost at the driver’s door when he hears a voice that both freezes him and sends an electric shock up his arms. He pivots, grabbing the other door and ripping it open so he can reach down and find-   
There.

In another second they are standing in an ashy parking lot together, Orion in Doc Twilight’s arms. Doc presses him against his chest, maybe too tightly. He holds the boy so close to make sure he can’t somehow slip away, to make sure he’s  _ real _ and safe. Because if this child hadn’t made it- If- If he was on the ground there, with his parents- Christian’s friends-

Sometimes one word is a bit too much. So we hide it. Sometimes it’s a whole hiding sentence or a crumpled dream, but we hide it away so the crushing snake can’t find it and twist it between its teeth.

This snake holds tightly until your throat is sore, so Christian hugs Orion tighter.

There’s a cheering noise behind them. The Qwou are flying away in their damaged spaceship, planning to return with more arms. Is it a victory? Those civilians seem to think so. Captain Sunshine looks pleased.

We’re not standing with them.

After a bit Orion pulls away from Doc, one hand gripping his cape and the other small hand wavering as it points back to the car.   
“Can you get them out?”   
Dear, he doesn’t want to. He doesn’t want to  _ know. _   
But Doc Twilight turns around, and he calls for help. He tries to lift Orion into the stranger’s hands, but those tiny fists are clutching him tightly. Finally, Doc sighs and sets the boy on the ground, where he stands, shaking, and tasting something horrible in his mouth.

Doc Twilight ventures into the car. He checks their pulses. He forces thoughts out of his mind and only acts. Orion waits outside.

There are moments where we see that hiding something. There are moments where we see the intention behind it. And occasionally, even if you see both of those, you won’t see the first something, no matter how close it leaps, snarling, into your face.

Mr. and Mrs. Shen are dead. 

~

The following week is hazy for Orion. Someone pulls him away from the crash and treats the gash on his forehead. He asks where his parents are, and when he isn't answered, Orion demands, and when that doesn’t work he tries running off to find them himself.   
That doesn’t end well.

It’s a long day for Orion. It finally finishes in a foster home, with a woman who has brown hair and a large smile. The house is nice; there’s a backyard, which Orion has never had before. The bed is soft.   
It’s  _ nothing _ like his home.

There are no glow-in-the-dark stars on his ceiling. The curtains are those short fake curtains that only cover half the window, and the streetlamp shining outside creates weird shapes on the walls. In his apartment, the bathroom is next door to his bedroom, but here Orion has to walk down the entire scary hall.

The lady tries. She serves warm food on cartoon-character plates and has a shelf filled with picture books. There’s a plastic bucket in the corner, brimming with stuffed animals, none of which Orion touches because none of them are  _ his. _

She talks to him often. She thinks she knows the hidden something behind his scowling eyes. We think we know a lot of things, don’t we?

Today is the third day. He's been very patient, I think, but everyone has a breaking point.

They’re in the middle of a jigsaw puzzle when he asks. "Where are they?"   
She looks up. "Who, honey?"   
He rests his hands on the table, brown eyes wide and serious. "Mom and Dad. I want them."   
The lady stills. She thought he knew. "Oh… Well, you see-"   
"I won't be scared! I never went to a hospital before, but I'll be good, I'll be  _ so  _ good!"

"Orion, baby…" She reaches for his hands, which he jerks back. He is five years old. He is  _ not _ a baby. "They're not in the hospital. They're… gone."   
"But they hafta come back for me still."    
"Heaven," the lady says, rubbing her face. She has never done this before. Not something so hard. Not to someone so young. "They're in Heaven, honey."

Orion draws back, setting his knees onto his chair and hiding his face behind them. He picks at the borrowed jean shorts he's wearing. A minute passes.   
"Like," he whispers, for once not wanting to be right, "like Andromeda?"   
"Who?"

His face twists and he leaps from his chair, knocking it over. The lady calls after him but he ignores her, slamming the bedroom door and crawling under the bed, all the way to the wall. He used to do this at home. He would bring his toys and play in the dark.

This bed is too low, like he’s being eaten alive. He kicks the bedframe with his feet.

Today is the fifth day. His host wants out of the house, and assumes Orion does too.

She asks him if he wants to go anywhere. He shrugs. She asks if he wants to make some friends. He tells her that he already has friends. When she asks for their names, Orion shrugs again.   
She's had to call him out from under the bed twice today.

It's afternoon now, and the lady is trying to buckle him into a car seat; he grits his teeth and shrinks from her hands.   
"Do you want to stay home?"   
He doesn't say anything. But she sees the hidden something just behind his eyes, and brings him back inside.

The eighth day, the social worker stops by. He talks with the lady, and then Orion, though after the first sentence Orion stops listening.   
There’s someone standing behind the worker. Mr. Christian Sanderson. Orion knows him. He usually keeps mints in his pocket, and Orion would get one if he asked nicely.

He asks for one now. Mr. Sanderson smiles at that- but it’s a strange smile, one Orion hasn’t seen directed at him before. It’s one of those things with something hidden behind it. 

Finally, the lady tells him to get his things. It isn’t much. Most of his stuff is still back at his home; he’s been wearing emergency clothes his host keeps in a closet. Which means too soon the stuff he does have is in a bag, and his bag is in the trunk, and Orion finds himself in a car seat with no choice of staying home.

Orion wiggles anxiously as Mr. Sanderson pulls out of the driveway. He eyes the sky, but it stays blue and empty. 

“Hey, kid.” There’s something strange about his voice. It’s a bit higher, and almost sticky, like the words don’t quite wish to be released. “How hungry are you?”   
“Mint hungry,” Orion tries, still facing the window. One hand tugs at the buckle across his chest. This isn’t his car seat. It needs adjusting. Orion thinks  _ everything  _ right now needs adjusting, though he doesn’t know how to phrase that.

“Then you’ll have to wait until we get home, because I forgot to bring some. Wasn’t thinking when I left.”   
At this, Orion turns forward and frowns. “But we don’t got any at home. Dad never buys mints.”   
Christian meets Orion’s eyes in the rearview mirror, both wearing scrunched eyebrows. “We’re going to my apartment after dinner.”   
“I can’t sleepover, I don’t have any pajamas!”   
“Were you listening to Mr. Prego?”   
Orion shrugs.

It can be difficult for an adult, trying to explain things to a child who refuses to listen. It can be difficult for a child, trying to ask things from an adult who refuses to understand. Meanings hide behind words and intentions behind the meanings.

“Kid, you’re living with me now. I have your pajamas and all your other things in my apartment already.”   
Orion pauses. He’s been to Christian’s house before, with his parents, and he only saw one bedroom. “Where am I gonna sleep?”   
“I cleaned out the study. You get the whole thing to yourself.” Christian stops at an intersection, then turns to face Orion properly. “Are you hungry?”   
Orion shrugs again.

_ Really _ what he wants to know is where his parents are and when he’s going to see them again, and why all the grown-ups keep looking at him weird. He knows they’re not in Heaven or whatever because last night he checked.    
It was hard to see the stars with the streetlamp right in front of the house, but Orion knows for certain: his parents aren’t up there.   
So where are they?

“How does pizza sound?” Christian is facing forward again, scanning the plaza to his left. He wants the night to be fun. Easy. He wants to be in his study, listening to police scanners and examining files and preparing to prescribe some justice with a gloved fist.

Instead all of his Twilight gear is sitting, boxed up, in a storage unit 9 blocks from his home, where a 5-year-old can’t get into them. Instead he’s sitting in a hot car with the windows down because his AC isn’t working and he doesn’t have the money to fix it right now. Instead he’s hungry, trying to find something fun for an early dinner because he hasn’t eaten since 1:00 A.M. the night before.

They should pull over to figure things out.

“I want a mint.”   
“Not available, kid. Would you like a Happy Meal?”   
“I want a mint!”   
“And  _ I  _ said later!”

They really should pull over.

“Don’t care,” Orion spits, yanking furiously at his buckles.    
“Orion,” Christian says, his voice low in an effort to remain calm, “what-  _ Hey! _ No, you put that seat belt back on right now, young man.”   
His head snatches up. Orion scowls.    
(Mr. Shen used to call Orion “young man” when he caused trouble.)   
“Hey,” Christian says again, turning in his seat. “I mean it. Buckle up.”

Don’t fear, dear, I’m sure they’ll pull over in just a-

Orion screams.

The car jerks to the right. A minivan passes them on the left, honking furiously. Christian’s hands are white against the steering wheel, eyes now glued to the lane he had started to drift out of.

They drive in silence for a long moment. Orion rebuckles himself. He scrubs his face with a tight fist.

He doesn’t really want a mint. He just wants things to be normal again.

Both are struggling to breathe now. From frustration and fear, from the heat of a June afternoon, from a snake they think they’ve locked away or from a seat buckle they wore a week ago.

Christian finally pulls into a plaza. He turns into a space nearby Jupiter City’s equivalent of Dairy Queen, and unbuckles quietly, shifting in his seat. He rubs a line from the top of his nose to the corner of his eye- the place a mask would normally be.

“Kid, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you. Or yell at you.”   
Orion picks at his shorts, the other hand holding the seat belt away from his neck. He’s never had an adult apologize to him before. It doesn’t make sense to him.   
“Kid?”   
Orion looks up. Two pairs of eyes meet in the mirror.   
“I need you to respond when I talk to you, so I know you heard me.”   
“Okay.”   
“I’m sorry.”   
“Okay.”   
“Do you want some ice cream?”   
He starts to shrug, then stops. “Yeah.”

Christian makes a sound that’s half a sigh, half a laugh. Then he climbs out of the car and unbuckles Orion. They lock the car, then cross the parking lot. They eat. They both go to bed early that night. They both stare at the ceiling and wonder what tomorrow will look like.

This is their first night out of years. I hope it works out.

**Author's Note:**

> hm couldn't find a place to integrate this, but headcanon that Christian nearly always has mints on him because he's up late at night, so in the morning he tends to oversleep and forgets to brush his teeth in his rush. when Christian comes to bring Orion to his apartment he didn't have any mints on him because it was afternoon when he left home.  
> Thanks for reading!!


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